


Seconds Like Days

by artemyspyke



Category: X-Men - All Media Types, X-Men: Days of Future Past (2014) - Fandom, X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Erik represses all emotion, Everything is terrible, M/M, Raven is fed up with Erik's shit, Where the hell is Charles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-21
Updated: 2014-06-21
Packaged: 2018-02-05 16:14:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1824526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/artemyspyke/pseuds/artemyspyke
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The moment hangs crystalline between them. Raven breathes heavily with a borrowed set of lungs. She prays that Erik will break down, hit her, tear apart the room - anything. Anything different than what she's had for the past year.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Seconds Like Days

**Author's Note:**

> A short one-shot sparked from a conversation with a friend about the lives of our favorite characters after Cuba, but before Erik's imprisonment.

Raven hovers around the entrance to Erik's office. It's large, and intimidating, although easily the smallest room in the Brotherhood's new base. The utilitarian design - just a desk, a chair, and a lamp - makes it all the more uninviting.

Erik looks up from some papers on the desk at her knock.

"What?" he asks tersely, sparing her little more than a glance.

"Still in a mood, I see," she replies. She moves to sit on the very corner of his desk, careful not to disturb any work.

"I'm busy."

"You're always busy."

"There's a reason for that." Erik's eyes remain resolutely glued to the desk. He scrawls something in his jerky script. Raven squints against the glare of the heavy-duty desk lamp, which turns the dark-wood desk red, and casts Erik's face into sharp relief. He looks older, expression stony against the stress that threatens to press wrinkles into his skin. 

"Come take a walk with me," Raven offers. She slides off the desk. She hasn't bothered to put on any appearances since joining the Brotherhood, outside of what's needed for missions. It's new to be completely free. Now she offers Erik a blue hand.

"I told you, no." His voice is harsher than it used to be. German bleeds more heavily into the consonants.

Raven goes out on a limb. "I need someone to talk to." It's risky. Erik doesn't deal in emotions these days. But it isn't a lie. Since Cuba, since... Charles... she's lost her greatest confidante. 

Erik flicks a glance up to her face.

"Find Angel," he says.

Raven doesn't know what she expected, but the statement still feels like a slap.

"Really?" she blurts, unable to keep the pain out of the word. "I tell you I need you, and you give me that? I'm not here for Angel, and I never was. The whole reason I came to this damn place was for myself, and for you. So don't tell me 'find Angel,' Erik. Are you listening to me?"

Erik has turned back to his writing, gripping the pen with unneeded force. Raven watches the ink furiously for a moment, wishing the paper would tear beneath the words so he would have to stop.

"Don't leave me like you left Charles." The words are out of her mouth before she consciously thinks about them. In a moment of panic, she takes several steps back. The pen stops moving. Erik's head lifts robotically, to fix his gaze on her.

"Get out of my office."

"Erik -"

"Get. Out!" He stands forcefully, shoving the desk chair backwards. The metal lamp bends, still lit, casting demented light on his twisted expression. Raven thinks of her choices. 

She could run, farther than the office door, all the way away from Erik and back to Charles. She sees her brother's face in her mind, his sweet blue eyes and soft hair. Then the vision distorts, and Charles is crying out in pain, surrounded by blood and sand. 

The second choice is more obvious.

"You can't push me away like you do with everything," Raven tells Erik. All he's done since Cuba is repress, and hide, and deny. No more. 

She shifts her form decisively, one that's familiar in her mind. Her hair shortens, curls, and browns. Her voice deepens. She pleads and urges with blue eyes instead of gold.

"You have to face what you've done, Erik!" she cries, the living visage of Charles Xavier. It's been unspoken between her and Erik since the separation in Cuba, but Raven has never turned into Charles. Even now, she's unsure what this means. 

The moment hangs crystalline between them. Raven breathes heavily with a borrowed set of lungs. She prays that Erik will break down, hit her, tear apart the room - anything. Anything different than what she's had for the past year.

Her heart shrivels when his face goes blank. The choice is clear: shut down. He looks off to the side, eyes matte grey, unseeing. 

Raven doesn't move when he pushes past her out of the room. She doesn't move, even when Emma Frost sends a demand straight into her mind.

//Where is he going?//

"I don't know," she murmurs aloud. She slides to the ground and sits, curled against the linoleum. The weight of all her choices hovers above her head, an anvil suspended on fishing wire.

They don't see Erik for a long time.


End file.
